


Domesticated

by Weirwoo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Filmmaking, Forced Bonding, rehearsal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25761628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weirwoo/pseuds/Weirwoo
Summary: Rich and famous movie actor Jaime Lannister finally gets the opportunity to work with a legendary movie director, but he needs to figure out what the deal is with his young, tall, and very odd female co-star, Brienne Tarth.This was written for the Jaime/Brienne Fic Exchange 2020.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 148
Kudos: 272
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laihiriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laihiriel/gifts).



> This was written for Laihiriel, whose prompt was: "The casual intimacy of domesticity." 
> 
> Set in modern Westeros. Weirwood = Hollywood.
> 
> I have no beta, all typos are mine!

There are some calls from directors you send to voicemail, some you completely ignore, and some you get your assistant to answer. But there existed a small handful of auteurs whom you would sacrifice your unborn child to get a telephone call from. Jaime Lannister had been waiting for this particular call all his career. Of course, he was an already famous movie star, had made Weirwood tons of box-office money over decades, and was famous enough that he could not step out in public with someone shouting “Kingslayer” or “Goldenhand” after him. It was a blessing to be so popular, but it was also his curse.

Olenna Tyrell was in the latter category of rarefied category of filmmakers – a master director who’s made ground-breaking, heartbreaking, heaven-sent films since the late 1960’s. Granted, she was old, in her mid-seventies now, but gods was she still sharp. Her vision still held and was as original as ever; her latest film won both the Golden Grizzly award and the industry-heavy Ernies just last year. Any actor who was ambitious or worth a damn wanted to work with Olenna Tyrell. Yet she had a reputation for being very choosy with the actors she worked with, and was well-known for unconventional story development and shooting style. 

And yet here he was – miracle of miracles – in the room with the director herself. Her white hair was pulled into a chignon, and she wore rather wild looking green spectacles on her face, and an oversized, heavily embroidered jacket of dark green silk. Her lips were painted a vivid red. Beside her sat a tiny young woman with a severe ponytail and a stillness that was rather unnerving. 

Getting this role had been a real coup. Jaime was not in the elite acting caliber like the actors that usually starred in her films, so it was a surprise that he had gotten the part, particularly without auditioning for it. He had to admit he was nervous; that morning, he had looked in the hotel mirror and saw an aging forty-year-old actor, still golden and handsome, but he could see fine lines around his eyes, and a few silver strands interspersed in his honey blond tresses. He worried that he was too old, too used up...not taken seriously enough as an actor. Tyrell rarely worked with established Weirwood actors – she seemed to prefer distinguished character actors; this was unusual – the blessed call had come out of the blue.

He was sitting straight in his chair, trying to conceal his anxiety when the door opened, and in walked the tallest and most unfortunate looking woman Jaime had ever seen. She was all arms and legs and neck, and her shoulders were wide, she had no waist to speak of, and her light blond hair hung limply around her shoulders. Her features were all mismatched, her lips, cheekbones, everything exaggerated into a profound disharmony. The most outrageous things were her eyes which were big, wide and the bluest of blues. She was young, in her twenties. He recognized her immediately, one could hardly not, with that face. She was Brienne Tarth – an emerging actress, a critical darling, often starring in indie films, her performance always being lauded as ‘brave’ and ‘unvarnished’. He wondered what she was doing in the meeting – there was no way that they belonged in the same room together as actors. In terms of the types of acting they both did, they were entirely on different planets.

The director looked up and smiled. “Ah, welcome, welcome, Brienne. Have a seat.” The woman moved self-consciously, as if she were a string puppet, looked around the table, spotted Jaime, absurdly blushed, and sat at the table. She was wearing a white silky blouse and black pants – he vaguely wondered who in the world made pants that long. The length of her legs was rather impressive, now that he took a good look. He was sure she was even taller than him.

“This is Jaime Lannister, whom I’m sure you’ve seen on the big screen. Jaime, this is Brienne Tarth, a rising star. She’s done very good work.”

Jaime couldn’t help but stare at the young actress. She gave him another brief glance, and blushed even deeper. He sighed inwardly. This woman was ugly and timid and Jaime could not imagine starring in the film with her. It would be like sharing the screen with a newt, as his own screen presence would obliterate her timid one. They would not go together at all.

“You can’t tell me I’ll be acting opposite her?” Jaime finally burst out, annoyance flaring unexpectedly.

The young woman in question frowned at him, looking very much like a disapproving septa.

“What seems to be the problem, Jaime?” Olenna regarded him with a concerned expression.

“Well,” Jaime groused, frowning. “She’s a bit young to play my wife, isn’t she? And she’s hardly the type that is usually my leading lady.”

“And what type would that be?” A surprisingly low melodic voice asked; the woman looked frightening when she scowled. Surprised, he smirked at this Brienne Tarth. So she _could_ actually talk, he thought to himself.

She continued, her blue-eyed gaze looking at him dismissively. “Let me guess. Gorgeous, curvy, delicate boned, not much between the ears? Unable to remember much dialogue except sexy moans?”

Jaime barked out a laugh. “That’s quite a generalization for one so young.”

“Oh, I am very much familiar with your work, Mr. Lannister. In fact, I grew up avoiding them.” She smiled a superior looking smile. Jaime felt his gut tighten – exhilaration mixed with irritation surged within him. He narrowed his eyes.

“Gods, don’t tell me you were raised on the teats of foreign film and independent cinema. Seven forbid that movies be entertaining!” He felt annoyance twist into anger inside him. How dare this whelp of the girl judge him like that? He’s had fifteen years on her in terms of acting experience.

A jarring laugh interrupted their verbal sparring. Both of them turned, suddenly aware of their audience, that they were sniping like children before the genius Olenna Tyrell. Jaime saw the actress flush a deep red. He imagined he was looking a bit chagrined as well.

“This is wonderful!” Olenna said. “I didn’t know you were going to fight like this.”

Jaime stared at her blankly. 

“You two,” the old woman looked back and forth at Jaime and Brienne. “Will be playing a married couple. What you have here – what I just witnessed showed me that the scenes of the marriage breaking down won’t be a problem for either of you.” She looked at her assistant. “What do you think, Arya?”

The dark eyed young woman cocked her head in thought. “They do have that...aggression and hostility in spades. But what about the early days of them falling in love and getting married?”

Olenna turned to both of them and looked thoughtful. “What say you to that?”

Brienne pursed her lips and looked flatly at Jaime, her gaze all judgement. He felt like an insect under the microscope of her eyes. She softened her gaze when she looked back at the director. “I’m an actress. Pretending I’m in love with...this man, no matter how personally offended I am by him, won’t be a problem. It might be a problem for him though, according to his earlier remarks.”

“Hey, I take exception to that. I’ve been acting for twenty years, kid.” He looked her up and down. He sneered. “How old are you, anyway?”

“I’m twenty-five. Your mental age, it seems, as opposed to your advanced physical age.” She smirked. This woman was infuriating.

“I see what you mean, Arya.” Olenna looked thoughtful.

Arya nodded decisively. “We will need to do something about it. Luckily we have a long rehearsal and improvisational process. With a little adjustment, we can fix this. Harness that chemistry to something positive, instead of corrosive. Collaboration, instead of destruction.”

Looking at the mildly scheming faces of the two women sitting across from him, Jaime had a strange feeling of foreboding. Jaime smiled his most charming smile at the old woman and put on his most reassuring voice.

“Now, Olenna. It will be fine. Brienne and I will work out our differences. We merely got started off on the wrong foot.” His tone was very contrite and placating; he could be very charming and gentlemanly. 

Brienne nodded, agreeing with his words, to his surprise. “Truly. I’m sure this will pass. We are both professional actors and can definitely work on our...um...tenderness toward one another.”

The director appeared skeptical. The lens of her oversized glasses flashed in the light.

Arya looked at both of them evenly. “Brienne, Jaime – I’m sure you are aware of how Olenna Tyrell works, else you would not be sitting here today. She is looking for authenticity. And that authenticity comes from truth, and that is something that cannot be faked. She is not asking you to merely act; she is asking both of you to _be_.”


	2. Chapter Two

“She can’t be serious – does she expect us to sleep in the same bed?” Brienne asked, appalled at the sight before her.

They were standing in front of the biggest bed either of them had ever seen, covered with white sheets, a white down comforter, and plenty of fluffy pillows. The bed could likely fit a family of four. The room itself was also white, with light pine furniture, and large windows that allowed the autumn sun to filter in. But it wasn’t the size of the bed that dismayed her.

Jaime cocked his head. “There only seems to be one bedroom in his house. I think that’s the idea. We are supposed to be married. Perhaps Olenna Tyrell is a proponent of Method acting. It certainly seems like it, judging from the _interesting_ situation we find ourselves in.”

Brienne gave him a suspicious look. Jaime barked out a laugh and looked her up and down, no doubt noticing her meagre tits and unfeminine grace. “I wouldn’t worry about your virtue, _wife_. I’m not remotely interested in fucking you. Though I assume you are interested in men, hmmm?” 

Despite herself, she could not help but colour at those words, humiliation pricking her skin. The implication was clear: she was not attractive enough to warrant anyone wanting to sleep with her. Anger flared like a rash across her skin. She pulled herself up to full height, and looked down at him – she was, after all, at least an inch or so taller than this arrogant man. “And I wouldn’t want to fuck an old has-been like you. You may still be handsome, but I don’t fuck assholes.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Jaime asked, leaning toward her and smirking. He clearly ignored the crucial first and last parts of that sentence.

Gods, he made her want to hit him. Numerous times. He shrugged, glancing at the bed. “You’re welcome to sleep on the couch. I’m sleeping on this very comfortable looking bed. Seems like I can really stretch out.”

“Dammit. Fine.” She began to furiously unpack clothes from her duffle bag. “But if you try anything, I swear, I’m going to fucking punch you in the balls. I’m stronger than you, you know.”

Jaime raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you are. “

He rolled his obnoxious thousand-dollar hard shell suitcase into the bedroom to the other side of the room. He warily eyed her shoulders and very firm arms, no doubt thinking that she could do serious damage to him.

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

The house itself was modern and quite beautiful, with warm cork floors, a sleek kitchen and a bathroom on each floor, furnished with surprisingly comfortable and stylish mid-century modern pieces. The production company did a good job in stocking the house: the kitchen cupboards and fridge were full, and there were even board games, a collection of blu-rays, and shelves filled with books. The house overlooked a large lake, and they had no neighbours as far as the eye could see. 

“What are the chances of getting delivery out here?” Jaime asked idly, looking into the fridge. 

“Considering we’re a two-hour drive from King’s Landing, I’d say the chances are pretty remote,” Brienne wryly replied. 

He made a huffing noise. “Can you cook?” Jaime asked, closing the fridge with a finality. It was past dinner time. He was hungry.

She narrowed her eyes and growled, shaking her head. “Oh no. I don’t care how famous you are. You are _not_ relegating me to the typical housewife role. I’m not going to be doing the laundry, folding your clothes and cleaning and picking after you and I’m certainly not going to be cooking for you, Jaime Lannister.”

He laughed, clearly amused at her outburst. “Look. I’m sure they’ll send us cleaners to do most of that stuff. The last thing I can envision you as is a domesticated housewife, and certainly not to someone like me. Perhaps that is why our marriage won’t work out in the movie?”

She stared at him, disbelieving. “You really believe that, don’t you? That they’d send us housekeepers to clean up your mess? Gods, you’ve probably been waited on hand and foot even before you became a movie star. Have you ever, like, cleaned the bathroom? Folded your own towels? Vacuumed?”

Jaime let out a frustrated exhale. “Look. Some people are just born with certain advantages, and well, I can’t change the state of the world, can I? Besides, spare me your ‘I grew up poor, had to survive on instant noodles, had to pick up my own dry cleaning’ sob story. It may work for the press, but not on me.”

“Dry cleaning? Seriously?” She shook her head. “You really are out of touch. Anyway, you’re an actor - shouldn’t you at least pretend to know how to do this stuff?”

Jaime shrugged. “My roles have all been action-packed. My characters certainly don’t spend their time doing laundry or bloody vacuuming. I’m too busy chasing down bad guys and fucking hot, villainous women.”

She stared at him, shaking her head.

He gave her an impatient look. “So, food? What are we going to eat? I don’t see a personal chef hiding around the corner.”

Brienne sighed. “Look. I can cook. But like I said, I’m not going to be the only one slaving over the stove while you sit pretty. If I cook, you’ll have to help me. Deal?”

He slid closer to the kitchen counter, his teeth catching his bottom lip. The gesture made him look absurdly attractive. “You think I’m pretty?” He gave her a movie star smile, all dimples and charm. Brienne grumbled to herself; he somehow had the unnatural ability not to hear her insults. The ego on him!

She rolled her eyes. “I think you’re vain.” She rummaged through the fridge and brought out brown-paper wrapped steaks, green beans, and various other vegetables with amazing efficiency. Jaime was secretly impressed.

“Do you eat meat? Any allergies?” 

He shook his head, looking at her while she whirled in activity all around him. “I eat everything,” he declared proudly.

“Good.” She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Do you think you can handle making the salad?” 

“Of course, _wife_.” 

She gave him a sharp look. She opened cupboards and took out the salad spinner and placed it in front of him. “Here.”

“What the hells is this?” He stared at the large plastic bowl contraption. He lifted it experimentally and examined the clear bottom. He shook it, like a chimpanzee encountering a new toy.

She was incredulous. “For the salad. It’s a salad spinner, Jaime. To dry the lettuce so they aren’t overly wet, so the dressing won’t be watered down. Try to keep up.”

“Wait. You have to wash the lettuce first?” He looked puzzled. 

“Let me guess. Your chef washes and dries the greens for you. And makes the dressing, and all you have to do is to put everything in a little bowl.”

He made a noncommittal reply.

She instructed him in washing the lettuce and Jaime took great joy in using the salad spinner, pumping the black lever with alarming enthusiasm. He cut up the other vegetables slowly but sloppily, as if he’d rarely done any chopping before. Meanwhile, Brienne seasoned the steaks, steamed the green beans, made vinaigrette dressing, then seared the meat over the stove top, much to Jaime’s utter fascination as he watched her while slowly cutting up the tomatoes. It seemed to Brienne that her offhanded comments about him having the mental age of a twenty-five-year-old man were spot on.

They sat at the table, and Jaime opened a bottle of red that he found in the small wine fridge in the pantry.

“This is delicious, wife!” Jaime said, as he cut into his steak and popped it into his mouth. “It’s perfectly cooked,” he said with surprise, looking at meat. “And perfectly seasoned.”

Brienne smiled modestly. “The salad is very good too,” she added, conciliatorily. 

Jaime hummed in agreement. He topped up her wine glass. Brienne wasn’t knowledgeable about wine, but it went well enough with the meat. She stifled a sigh and stole a glance at her companion. Gods, he was much too handsome for his own good. In any case, Jaime was a touch more tolerable while they were cooking, and he was positively polite as they were eating. She supposed they had reached a sort of truce; Jaime definitely seemed to be reigning his asshole qualities in, though he was still very...annoying. She looked at him, all golden and beautiful and with an effortless confidence that she was sure he was born into. He was already successful in his field, still wildly popular, and was rich beyond measure. He could afford to have live-in help and personal chef, as she had fully gathered from his very privileged remarks.

“What?” Jaime said, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered.

“Come on, out with it” He shrugged. “The best foundation of marriage is honesty, wouldn’t you say?”

“But our characters are getting divorced, so….”

“Ah,” Jaime grinned. “But they have to fall in love first. Well?”

She regarded him skeptically. “So. I was wondering - _why_ are you here? I mean, doing an Olenna Tyrell film of all things, when you could be filming your latest blockbuster action movie or thriller and be making tons of money.”

“Ah, the million-dollar question.” He regarded her evenly. “You’re right: I could be making an exorbitant amount of money right now. And I know you didn’t ask, but I’m getting paid the same amount as you, in case you’re wondering.”

She started in surprise.

“I thought that would raise those non-existent eyebrows of yours. I insist all my co-leads get paid the same as me, it’s only fair.”

“Well, that’s – that’s very noble of you.” She was momentarily stunned. She had not thought he had an altruistic bone in his very well-developed body, although something in her memory pulled at her – some remark of one of her co-stars in her last movie.

He shrugged. She looked at him expectantly. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“You first.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He poured her another glass of red and topped up his own. “Why are _you_ doing an Olenna Tyrell film?”

She took a sip of the wine. “Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it? Roles for someone like me–”

“For someone like you?”

She gave him a cold glare. “Don’t play dumb. You explicitly brought it up when we first met. Someone with my looks – too tall, too weird looking – well, we don’t usually end up in movies.”

“Go on,” he said, looking at her with interest.

“I was lucky enough to be cast in a couple of my friend’s films - Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell, which gained some critical attention. When that happened, suddenly casting directors who rejected me for being too ugly were giving me a call for their roles. They had to eat lots of humble pie.” She chuckled.

“Loras Tyrell is Olenna’s grandson, isn’t he?” he said musingly.

She nodded. “But I didn’t get this role because of that. Olenna had seen my movie, and liked my face and thought I would do in this role for some reason. I was probably as surprised as you when she casted me. Of course, this is my dream come true – err – working with Olenna, that is.”

Jaime looked at her thoughtfully, nodding. He sighed softly. “I actually don’t know why Olenna chose me. Surely nothing in my work – the mind-numbingly stupid movies that I make year after year – would indicate that I would be a good fit for a Tyrell film. But I had my agent contact her years and years ago, fishing for roles. At that time, I had wanted to expand my range.”

He paused, his eyes growing distant. “You know that kid that I made fun of when I first met you in that meeting, one who shunned mainstream movies and was very into independent and foreign cinema? Believe it or not, that was me. I detest the movies I make,” he said a little bitterly. “It’s torture for me to read such bad writing and see uninspired directing. But that’s not how things turned out for me. In the beginning, my agent suggested I start off modeling, which I did, which then led to these action movies. And when I became successful, I felt the pressure to make even more of them. Eventually, I was stuck doing only those kinds of roles.”

“But surely you have the power to make whatever movie you want now? Even to produce it on your own?”

“Fair point. But for some years – hells, decades, I guess – I lost my focus. I took my career for granted. Stopped pushing myself. I was preoccupied with something other than acting.” He looked at her darkly, not wanting to tell her about his ex Cersei and his years long obsession with loving her. What a farce. When he looked back on those twenty plus years, all he saw was wasted effort, delusion, and self-torture. It had taken years of therapy to get her twisted words, the manipulation, her insults about him – out of his head.

“So, what happened to make you start caring again?”

He gave her a long look. “A few things. The main thing is that I got into a pretty bad car accident three years ago, nearly lost my hand.” He held up his right hand, and Brienne saw the faint white scars on his palm and trailing around his knuckles down to his wrist. “The fallout of that accident is that I lost crucial parts of my life.” He paused, looking at her intently. “I rediscovered my love for movies – the injury made me unable to work for almost a year, so I actually had time to watch movies again.”

“You fell back in love with film,” Brienne said, almost romantically.

He looked at her oddly. “I suppose that’s it.”

Brienne looked toward the living room. “Have you had a chance to look at the discs they have here? Maybe we should watch something?”

Jaime grinned. 

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

After some back and forth, they decided on a Northern film by Jorah Mormont called _Blessed Losers_ , which depicted two lovers who were torn apart by infidelity and suspicion. Brienne remembered all too late that the film had been infamous for its explicit sex scenes and fully frontal nudity when it first came out. Sitting on the couch, seeing those graphic scenes on the big screen of people fucking (the screen was alarmingly large and was mounted on a wall), next to Jaime Lannister was, to put it mildly, awkward. During the film, Jaime casually draped a pillow over his lap, his eyes never leaving the screen. Brienne knew she was blushing vividly and only wished that she had brought a blanket so she could cover her whole face and body to hide her mortification. She could handle watching sex scenes on her own – they don’t faze her, but watching a sex scene in the company with someone as handsome as Jaime was very _disconcerting_.

Uncomfortable scenes on the screen aside, there remained the problem of the bed. By the time the movie ended, both of them were exhausted. They trudged off to the bedroom.

“Uh, you can use the bathroom first, if you want,” Jaime offered, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt, looking surprisingly awkward.

“Thanks,” Brienne said, rummaging in the drawers for her sleeping clothes.

This was excruciating, Jaime thought, as he stared at the closed bathroom door. He did not quite know why they chose that specific movie – likely because it had to do with relationships and so on, but gods, those sex scenes were torture. He had been more than a little turned on, and his state did not much improve when he saw how Brienne reacted to the scenes. She blushed fiercely, and he couldn’t help but watch the bright pink move down her neck and temptingly below the collar of her shirt. He was much too distracted by her nervous lip bites and her slightly heavy breathing. Jaime found his reaction to her perplexing; there was the start of a tingling in his spine that he couldn’t quite control. Gods, he just hadn’t fucked a woman in years – that must have been it. There was no way he was attracted to Brienne Tarth, of all people. 

The bathroom door opened, and there she stood, in indecent black shorts that revealed her very long and muscular thighs and well-formed calves. She had the longest and shapeliest legs he’d ever seen, and they were pale and covered with rather enticing freckles. The tank top she was wearing was white and thin and he could see the outlines of her nipples through the lightweight fabric. All that, along with those blasted beguiling eyes of hers, made his cock come to attention.

“Your turn,” she said, avoiding his gaze. He groaned inwardly at the low smoothness of her voice, and strategically placed his robe in front of him as he shuffled past her to the bathroom.

The situation that Brienne found herself in could not be stranger. But she knew somehow she had to try to get along with this man, someone who was the last person she expected to ever work with. She found him arrogant and condescending and immature and annoying. Yet she could not deny that he was interesting, and strangely fascinated in her, with his curious stares and pointed questions. It did not help either, that he was the most gorgeous man in existence. His face could be framed and put in an art gallery, she thought, vaguely embarrassed when she suddenly remembered that she actually had his picture pinned on the walls of her teenage bedroom. She groaned inwardly. She would never admit it to him in a million years, but she had a bit of a thing for him back in the day.

What did not help was the sight of Jaime emerging from the bathroom, smelling of soap and toothpaste, clad in a silky crimson robe that was open enough to show the tanned ‘v’ of his torso. He walked to his side of the bed and casually removed said scarlet robe. She nearly gasped; Jaime Lannister, the most arresting and charismatic man in the world, was wearing nothing except boxer briefs to bed, his tanned and muscular chest on complete display. His thighs were lean and powerful. The briefs were also red, and she had to make an effort not to notice what looked to be a very promising package. She felt herself growing pink yet again.

He smirked. “Impressed?”

She threw a pillow at him, which he caught with a laugh.

“Can’t you wear pajamas, like a normal person?” 

He shrugged. “I’m actually doing you a favour. I normally sleep naked.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Just stay on your side,” Brienne grumbled. 

“Lord, you’re a prude. There’s literally room for a dog and a half between us, _wife_.”

“Just reminding you, dear _husband_ ,” Brienne retorted. She reached over to turn off her bedside lamp. Jaime did the same.

For a while both of them lay still, their breaths strained, tension between them palpable. 

He sighed. “Doesn’t your boyfriend or girlfriend mind – you know, that you’re living with someone else for this project?”

She gave a choked sound. It was a personal question – too personal a question, but she could trace no mockery in his tone. Of all things, she was a little flattered that he thought that she may have had a partner at all, that someone actually wanted to date her.

That did not stop her from blushing, however, and she was glad of the darkness. “I don’t have any one,” she said truthfully. “What about you? Doesn’t your girlfriend mind?” 

He sighed. “There’s no one for me either. Hasn’t been for about three years.”

It was inconceivable that this perfect specimen of a man didn’t have a perfectly buxom young woman waiting for him at his penthouse or whatever mansion he lived in. She’d seen him in magazines with the supermodel Cersei for years, but they had since broken up in a spectacular fashion some time ago. She frowned. “It’s just been casual relationships for you since your last long-term relationship, I guess?”

She heard him draw in a breath, but also heard him exhale. “I don’t fuck around, Brienne. I’m not into casual sex or ‘casual relationships,’ as you put it. I haven’t been with anyone since my last relationship fell apart, despite what you might read on gossip sites.”

His words stunned her. How was this even remotely possible? He must be getting propositioned all the time with his looks and fame. He could certainly get any woman he wanted. He could be lying of course, but the edge of bitterness in his voice seemed an indication that he was telling the truth. It had a shade of loneliness to it that she was all too familiar with.

Absurdly, she felt a kinship to Jaime at that moment, as if they were treading in the same pool of lonely, black water. “Well,” she said softly, “If it makes you feel better – I’ve – I’ve never been in a relationship. Which is a lot less surprising than your own revelations.”

“Hmmm. I don’t know about that,” he murmured. He gave a heavy sigh. 

The tension between them had unfurled in the last few moments, a settling darkness between them.

“Good night, Brienne.” His voice was almost fond.

She turned her back to him. “Good night, Jaime.”


	3. Chapter Three

Brienne awoke to the tantalizing smells of coffee and bacon. She stretched out, luxuriating in the huge bed. She was surprised at how deeply she slept, considering she had shared the bed with a virtual stranger; it helped, she supposed, that the mattress was huge. 

When she came downstairs, dressed in shorts and a baggy t-shirt, she was even more surprised to find Jaime standing over the gas stove, frying up bacon and making scrambled eggs.

“I thought you couldn’t cook,” Brienne asked, frowning, slipping onto the bar stool in front of the kitchen counter.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Jaime called out in sing-song. Brienne grunted at his absurd cheerfulness. He looked completely fresh and awake, and his messed up hair gave him a sexiness that she found rather annoying. In particular, his ‘bed head’ was more a ‘ _come to bed_ _head_ ’ than the confused yellow nest of her own hair. He grinned and placed a plate of decent-looking bacon and eggs with toast in front of her. She raised an eyebrow, looking at him suspiciously.

He waved a mug in her line of vision. “Coffee?” 

“Please.”

The coffee was heaven, the rich flavour and aroma waking her up. She felt – just slightly – more human.

“I can’t cook, but know how to make breakfast. Pancakes. Oatmeal. Simple stuff.” He sat next to her with his own breakfast. “My chef doesn’t start until lunchtime.” He winked.

Brienne nodded, an amused smile at her lips. “I thought I was being hustled for a second. That you secretly were a trained chef or something.” She took a bite and nodded in approval. “Hmmm. It’s good.”

“Don’t sound too shocked.” His eyes were sparkling with merriment as he forked some eggs into his mouth. “And I admit I may have played up my helplessness for your amusement.”

She snorted. He grinned.

They ate their breakfast in silence.

“I was thinking,” Brienne ventured, after they’d finished eating. “We should explore the area – maybe go to the lake. It might facilitate our bonding. For the film.”

He tilted his head and looked at her, smiling crookedly. “That’s very dedicated and responsible of you.”

“Oh, piss off, Lannister.” She scowled.

He laughed.

He insisted on doing the dishes together despite there being a state-of-the-art dishwasher in the kitchen, to ‘facilitate our bonding,’ he said teasingly. Her fingers in the warm, soapy water, the feel of the smooth china and squishy sponge, the brief touch of Jaime’s fingers as he took the plates from her to dry – all made her feel quite warm. He was standing next to her, so close she could feel his body heat. Strangely, he seemed to enjoy the novelty of doing chores, as he was smiling, even at times humming under his breath. His profile was sharp and masculine. Decisive. He was breathtaking. He looked over and smiled at her, his eyes crinkling up.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” 

Brienne could only nod, feeling herself smile in response, all the while telling herself not to get carried away by the masculine beauty before her.

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

There didn’t appear to be a soul for miles. The house was nestled at the edge of a forest but faced a large lake. They walked around the property, and Brienne noticed the abundant vegetable garden out back. They walked toward the lake and saw a small floating dock and a rowboat.

“This reminds me of Tarth, where I grew up,” Brienne said, as they walked out to the dock, the wood swaying with their movement and weight. The water rippled and sang under the shifts of their footsteps on the platform. The sun shone at just the right angle to make everything seem illuminated and alive. She took a deep gulp of cool, morning air.

“I thought Tarth was an island?”

“It is, but there are lakes and forests too. It’s peaceful there, even now, since tourists usually just stick around Evenfall and its beaches in the summer.” She missed the island and its beauty, even if when she was eighteen she couldn’t wait to escape the small provincial attitudes of the people. She still shuddered at the memory of her high school, which was the site of her painful humiliations.

“Hmmm.” He looked at her, smiling.

“Where did _you_ grow up, Jaime?” They sat themselves at the edge of the dock, their legs dangling toward the water.

He frowned. “Casterly Rock, which is on the west coast. But I don’t have fond memories of that place. It always feels so cold to me, even now. I remember the air always smelled like salt and seaweed.”

“I take it you didn’t have the best childhood, then,” she said dryly.

Jaime barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Far from it. My father was a harsh man, especially after my mother died when I was eight. Yes, even though my brother and I had all the advantages of wealth. I was sent off to boarding school as soon as I hit puberty. I barely saw the man.”

Brienne looked into the shimmering water. The sun was starting to warm it up, and she took off her sandals and dipped her toes into the lake. She gazed at Jaime’s profile beside her – he had a strange and tender expression on his face. There was something about this man, she thought, something so very honest; she realized with a gradual dawning that she actually _trusted_ him.

“My mother died when I was young too. But my dad’s a good guy – he tried his best with a strange, odd daughter, while dealing with all his grief. We were a family five reduced to two at that point.”

Jaime squinted at the brightness and turned to Brienne. Her face was calm, her eyes clear and untroubled. “It must have been difficult for you,” he said gently. He could not imagine how someone could have had so much tragedy in their life and still be so composed and serene.

She shrugged. “We all have our scars,” she said, remembering the taunts and bullying of the boys at her school. She stood up, offering him a hand, much to his evident surprise. He took it, raising an eyebrow at her strength as she helped haul him up.

“Let’s harvest vegetables from the garden,” she said, smiling. “I thought I saw kale and spinach and eggplant out there. And tomatoes.”

He shook his head. “How do you know all these things, _wifey_?”

Her laugh rang out across the water. “Life, Jaime.” She looked back at him, expression suddenly mischievous. “You pick things up as you go along. You ought to try it sometime.”

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

Brienne’s entire body was pale, almost transparent, save for the tiny light brown freckles that splattered her skin like tiny specks of diluted watercolour paint. Unexpectedly, she was wearing a vintage style, dark blue polka-dotted bikini, which was demure by bikini standards, but which showed off her muscular shoulders and the wide band of her lean stomach. Even though the bikini bottom was modest and fully covered her backside, her legs looked impressively long. Her bodily proportions were highly unusual; she seemed to be three-quarters legs. Perhaps it was because of this reason that he just couldn’t stop looking at her. 

“I wouldn’t have thought you were a bikini type of gal,” he said, perhaps unwisely, spreading out their blankets on the dock of the lake.

She sighed. “Just because I don’t look like your average starlet, I can’t wear pretty things?”

“I never said that.” She was prickly, this one.

“It’s what you implied.” She looked frustrated and cross. “Look. I’ve had people react to me the same way all my life. It gets old. If people think I’m ugly and shouldn’t wear pretty things, fuck them.” She glared at him. “And fuck you if that’s what you think.”

Jaime raised his hands defensively. “I never said that. I don’t think that.” 

She huffed.

“I _don’t_.” He looked her up and down appreciatively. “I like that swimsuit. Blue is a good colour on you. And I don’t find you ugly, Brienne. Just – just – the opposite. You are quite – uh – alluring.” He felt absurdly warm – surely the sun wasn’t at its zenith yet – nevertheless, his face felt like it was burning.

She looked at him skeptically, squeezed sunscreen on her palm and started to rub it all over her skin. Jaime tried to avert his eyes, but he could not help following the motions of her hands as she stroked up and down her long limbs. It wasn’t her intent to be sensual – nonetheless, he definitely felt something vaguely stir down below. When she awkwardly tried to reach her back, Jaime immediately reacted.

“Here, let me,” he murmured, moving close and taking the cream from her hands.

“Alright.” She stood stiffly, tension tight in her back. Jaime squirted a thick dollop of sunscreen onto his hands and began to slowly massage it into her back, even reaching under the straps of her bikini top. Her skin was already warm from the sun, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the smoothness of it, the firmness of taut muscles under his palms. Her skin was near glowing in the sunlight.

Brienne was strangely silent. When he finished, she casually offered to do his back. Normally he didn’t bother with sunscreen as he never burned, only tanning to a warm golden shade, but something made him say yes in this particular instance. She was surprisingly gentle with the motions of her hands. Jaime willed himself to breathe slowly – her touch was almost electric, and seemed to radiate deep into his back and down his spine. She pressed harder on the muscles of there, almost massaging it. Again, he felt himself growing too warm. He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning, and he wasn’t surprised to feel his cock stir even more in his swimming trunks. By the time she was finished, he was quite thankful for the roominess of the shorts.

He turned his back to her as he spread the sunscreen on his front, legs and arms. He couldn’t help but frown, confused by his body’s reaction to her. He rarely felt attraction to people he worked with. The actresses in his movies were pretty and perfect and did nothing for him at all, even though his characters were supposed to be blinded with lust for them. Ever since he was a teenager, it was Cersei he wanted, no other woman. Always Cersei. Whatever was going on with his reactions to Brienne thoroughly confused him. Hells, she was the physical opposite of his ex and was ugly by conventional standards, although he could not deny that there was a certain unusual magic in the way she looked and moved. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud splash. Brienne jumped in with a loud whoop, and he could see her energetic swimming, stroking up back and forth in the lake.

“Come on, Lannister!” She cried out. “Show me how well you can swim!”

He jumped in, splashing dramatically, gasping at the sudden coolness of the water. Gods, it was good to be in the lake, feel his limbs float as he cut through the water with the movement of his arms. He paddled toward Brienne, who was sleek and elegant in her swimming. She was as effortless as a seal, twisting and rolling circles around him in the water.

They stared at each other and grinned, and spontaneously started to race each other. Jaime was no slouch when it came to swimming – he had grown up near the sea, after all. But Brienne was powerful and strong, and she kept eluding him. Soon enough, he had to slow down, threading water as he caught his breath. He was panting, his lungs burning.

“Alright! I give up!” He eventually shouted after her. Her response was a high roaring laugh that echoed across the lake. He couldn’t help but join her in the laughter. There was something both disarming and uninhibited about how she laughed – the sound embodied happiness and was the purest thing he’d ever heard.

He lay on his back, allowing the water to carry him. The sky was so blue; fluffy, well-formed clouds lazed across the sky. As he floated, he bumped into a form – Brienne, also floating on her back. She grabbed his hand and held it, as they drifted peacefully together. Jaime felt an incredible peace descend upon him, as he felt the water, the sky, the clouds, Brienne’s hand, all coalesced inside himself. He smiled serenely at the blue heaven above him.

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

They sat out on lounge chairs out on the house deck, looking up at the stars. The night sky was black velvet, and the stars – bright pinpoints of white light – scattered across its surface. The moon’s light glimmered on the ripples of the lake, while the low hoots of owls interrupted the silence of the night.

“I never knew stars could be so bright,” Jaime declared, his face staring up at the sky, enchanted. 

“It really is amazing,” Brienne agreed. “It certainly shows us how much we miss, living in the city. Our artificial lights really do blind us to the lights of nature.”

“You know, I always wonder how, no matter how shitty life gets, no matter how down you are, the stars still bother to shine on us. Despite it all.” He took a swig of bourbon, and passed it over to her. 

Brienne looked over at him, delight on her face. “That was very poetic, Jaime.” She took a sip, wincing at the stinging heat of the liquor going down her throat.

He laughed. “I have that sensitive side to me somewhere. I suppose it’s very, very deep down at this point, since you think I’m an asshole.”

She looked over at him, and saw that he was staring at her. They locked eyes for what felt like a long time. 

“I don’t think you’re an asshole, Jaime.” Her voice was quiet, calm.

He scoffed.

She grinned. “Well, maybe that first day we met. You were a jerk, you have to admit.”

“Guilty as charged.” He chuckled. “But you gave it back just as hard to me, now you do have to admit that.”

“Fair.” She shrugged. She looked at him steadily, her head tilted, assessing. “You know, you’re not such a bad guy, Jaime. You’re actually pretty kind and thoughtful. I wonder why you hide that under...all that.”

“All that?”

“All that movie star bravado. The arrogance, the instinctual jerkiness. The tendency to attack with sarcasm and quips.”

He made a non-committal sound and stared at her. Her eyes were very large, eyelashes like fine wings.

Her face turned thoughtful. “I had forgotten about this until last night, but I remember what my co-star, Elia Martell, once said about you. She said you had the reputation for standing up for women who were being harassed on sets. She said that you saved her at one point from an abusive, asshole director.”

He turned his head quickly and stared at her. “Elia Martell. Gods, that name takes me back.”

She looked at him with that steady blue gaze of hers. Contemplative. “I think there is a good man inside you, Jaime Lannister, that you always try to hide.”

He made a half-choking noise and downed a deep gulp of liquor. He shook his head. “How are you even real?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “What do you mean?”

He gave her a long, thoughtful look, his eyes shimmering in the darkness. “You know, Brienne, you might be surprised to learn that I actually watched your movies when they first came out. I saw immediately that you were something else. Something special. How the camera captured you – the little microexpressions that wash over your face – but most of all, your eyes. Those eyes of yours are magic, Brienne – so expressive, so easy to read, especially when you allow us to see inside. You are meant for the screen.”

She looked at him, dumbstruck.

“But the strange thing is, you are even more astonishing in person. Your eyes are stunning, containing even more than the camera can capture. The way you move, your little silences and hesitations, are all remarkable. I didn’t expect it.”

He continued, his face looking transported. “Yes, I was an ass when we first met, but I honestly didn’t know what to do with you. I felt like you had the power to expose me and strip me down with just one look of yours.”

During his speech, Brienne had sat up, surprised and shocked at his words. She turned her body to face him. The look he returned to her was one that was so open and unguarded that it made her heart quiver.

She shook her head. “Gods, Jaime, no one has ever said anything like that to me. I don’t know how you see me that way. All my life I’ve been told I would never find regular work because of my looks. But you – of all people – seem to actually _see_ me.”

He nodded, feeling something inside him wobble and becoming unsteady. Her eyes were merciless in their compassion.

She took his hand and held it. “Thank you, Jaime.”

He sat up, facing her. Her hand still held his, large and warm, with long, tapering fingers. Jaime could not help but lean closer to her; her eyes were dark and seemed to reflect the light of the moon in them. 

“Gods. I wish I had met you years ago. I wish I could have grown up with you. I would have been a different person. A better person.” He looked at her intently.

She looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Jaime – the person I see before me is a good man. Maybe damaged and a bit too cynical, but still with a core of goodness in him, that he hides away. That he doesn’t want anyone to find out about.” She bit her lip. “Why do you think you’re not good, Jaime?”

He sighed, and looked away from her for a moment.

“For a long time, I was in a relationship with my high school sweetheart – she was everything I thought I wanted. She was beautiful.” He paused. “She looked a lot like me – people used to mistake us for twins even, until they saw us making out.” His laugh was bitter and hollow.

“Gods, I loved her so much. I was devoted to her. She always said we were the same, that we were soulmates, and I believed her. But I learned later that was a line that she repeated to tie me to her, words which she herself didn’t believe. She was a model, I was working, we both traveled a lot. I eventually found out that she cheated on me, repeatedly, over the years, yet even then I couldn’t tear myself away. We were still hanging on by a thread until my accident three years ago. She couldn’t handle it, my disfigurement, my scars. My depression, my recovery. Finally, the light dawned and I saw what kind of person she was, and broke it off.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I feel Iike I’ve never learned to love, that the concept of love is all twisted inside me.” He looked at her, his face troubled, his lip pressed in a line. “There hasn’t been anyone else besides her, even now. I think I’m...scared. I feel like I’ve wasted _years_ , Brienne.”

She stared back at him, her gaze intense. It felt like they were alone with only the light of the moon glowing between them. “I’m scared too,” Brienne said in a near whisper.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend – I’ve never even dated. All the men who asked me out treated me as a joke. In high school there was even a bet among the boys about who would take my virginity. Luckily someone told me about it before I was completely fooled. It was humiliating.” Brienne felt her cheeks warm, her eyes filling slightly with tears. She was grateful that they were in the darkness.

“Assholes.”

“Yeah.”

They both gazed up at the stars. A streak of light shot across the dark heavens. A falling star. 

“Gods, we are a dysfunctional pair, aren’t we?” Jaime joked, threading his fingers gently through her hair, as his eyes searched her face.

She smiled gently. “Maybe that’s why Olenna picked us for the film. She probably said to herself, ‘Let’s see what happens when these two disasters are put in the same room’.”

Jaime laughed, and Brienne giggled with him. She felt a strange lightness in her chest, as if some burden was suddenly lifted. Maybe it was the moon or the stars, or just the bourbon, but she felt free and incredibly alive.


	4. Chapter Four

Jaime tried to concentrate on the tiny young woman’s words, her solemn face, the strange stillness in her movements as she came through the front door, but he felt himself drifting in the tide of voices, buoyed by an unfamiliar, but pleasant sense of ease. He couldn’t help but remember waking up that morning in Brienne’s arms. Somehow, during the night, both of their sleeping bodies had met in the middle of the immense bed, and when he woke up, feeling warm and oh so good, he noticed that Brienne was dozing on her side, her arm across his chest, and one of her very long legs between his. He could feel her soft breaths in his ear. He felt at peace with the world, and also, slightly aroused. He was hyper aware that if she moved her leg slightly up, she would be nudging his half-hard cock.

“Jaime,” Brienne said, staring at him oddly.

That brought him back into the room, to Brienne and Arya, who were both looking at him expectantly. He shook his head and smiled sheepishly. “Yes. Sorry.”

“You had the weirdest look on your face, Lannister.” Arya noted flatly, one eyebrow arched. Jaime had an eerie feeling that this dark-haired little woman could see entirely right through him.

“Just thinking about the role, you know,” he said sheepishly, self-consciously running his fingers through his hair.

Brienne turned her bright beams on him, looking unsuspecting and guileless. “I was just offering Arya some coffee – do you want any?”

He jumped a little, restless. “I’ll help you, Brienne. It looks like Arya is setting up here.”

The young woman sat on an armchair in front of her coffee table, opening her briefcase. “I’ll need a few minutes,” she said, looking sharp in her black suit, which she incongruously wore with bright white trainers and a ponytail with a red floral scrunchie.

Back in the kitchen, Brienne was plating some cookies she found in one of the cupboards, while Jaime measured out the water for the pot of coffee. 

“I really don’t need help doing this, Jaime.” 

Jaime smiled. “You know I make better coffee than you, _wifey_. Admit it, you love it when I make it. Besides, don’t you think Arya is a little, uh, unnerving? I kind of don’t want to be alone in a room with her.” 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “She is a professional. Perhaps you aren’t used to that sort of behavior?”

He laughed. They stood there, looking at each other, standing a little too close while listening to the mechanical groans of the coffee machine. Jaime found himself reaching his hand out and tucking away an errant lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eye. She hitched her breath at the touch, her cheeks growing pink. She looked to the side and moved away, taking out three mugs from the cupboard.

When the coffee was ready and they returned to the living room, Jaime soon felt like he and Brienne were in some kind of couples counseling, both of them sitting next to each other on the couch while Arya sat in the armchair opposite, notebook and pen in hand. Arya would be a very good poker player, Jaime thought. Her quietness was disconcerting and he found himself fidgeting a little too much in reaction. Brienne gave him an irritated glance, and firmly clamped her hand on his knee to momentarily stop him from bobbing his leg up and down. He couldn’t help but smirk at her. She looked at him disapprovingly in return.

“You’re a few days into this cohabitation,” Arya said casually. “How are things?”

He and Brienne looked at each other, neither of them not knowing where to begin.

“Pretty well, I think,” Brienne eventually said. She raised her eyebrows for emphasis.

“Brienne has been teaching me all sorts of things. Like chores, cooking. It’s on the whole been quite…enlightening.” He smiled his most charming smile. “I’m on the way to being a _very good_ house husband.”

She snorted. “He expected that there would be housekeepers around when we first arrived,” Brienne joked, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I’ve had a privileged life.” He leaned toward her, smiling, finally relaxing. “Wouldn’t you say I’ve been a perfectly good student? Very dedicated, hmmm?”

Arya nodded, looking back and forth at them with a very faint hint of amusement on her placid face. She paused, her mouth going still. She scratched some notes on her pad. “Hmmm. So. Tell me about the sleeping arrangements.”

Brienne bolted upright and gave the woman a pointed look. “That was some trick you guys pulled. One bed? Really?”

Jaime chuckled. “Brienne here was really quite upset.”

She quickly turned to face him. “Actually, _you_ were more upset, as I recall. Plus, you were very quick with your insults.” Her eyes flashed at him, and he felt a momentary thrill.

“She wanted to sleep on the couch,” he explained smugly.

Brienne sniffed. “I said no such thing.”

“In the end, she capitulated.” He smirked. “I’ve been a perfect gentleman about it, by the way.”

“The bed is very big,” Brienne conceded, her face flushing.

Arya nodded, jotting a note in her book. She looked up at them and paused.

“Olenna will be pleased. Both of us rather thought that you might have ended up in a fist fight or killing each other or something. My money was on Brienne winning, of course,” The young woman smirked.

Jaime sighed dramatically.

Brienne huffed and turned to him. “You know I’m stronger than you,” she remarked, eyes dancing with amusement. “Plus, I’m way, way younger. I would have beaten you in the dirt, handily.”

Jaime felt a momentary flush of heat run through him. He swallowed hard, trying not to think about Brienne’s strong thighs straddling him and her hands pinning down his wrists.

Instead he drained his cup of coffee.

Brienne chuckled.

Arya looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Hmmm.”

Jaime grumbled, looking at Arya suspiciously. “So, what are you planning for us here, Arya?”

She sat straight up, opened her laptop, and looked coolly at them. “We consider what you’re doing is an intense sort of pre-rehearsal bonding. It might feel odd right now, but it’s vital to the process of developing the story and script.” The young woman started clicking on her computer, and pulled some papers from her suitcase and handed them over. “This is a very rough outline of the plotline of the movie – it’s essentially the story of a couple – Jaime’s a film director who meets an emerging actor, played by Brienne, and they fall in love, get married, and eventually break up. As you know, what happens in the movie is in constant flux – Olenna works best with the input from the actors.”

Brienne looked at the paper – it was a very, very rough outline, barely nothing at all. It did not reveal much more than what Arya just said.

“It’s not much to go on.” Brienne bit her lip, thoughtful.

“When we reconvene in King’s Landing, we’ll start rehearsals, and from that, we’ll improvise and create a script from your interactions.” Arya narrowed her eyes. “You are aware of Olenna Tyrell’s process, correct?”

Jaime and Brienne nodded.

“You likely won’t have worked like this before, but collaboration is the key here. You two are equal partners with the director in being responsible for the story. Filming itself will be quite short. That being said, Olenna has instructed me to tell you the following.”

Arya pulled out another piece of paper which was covered with black, inky handwriting. “One. Work on your backstories – aside from your professions, your character’s personal histories are entirely up to you.” She looked up and nodded. “Olenna would like you to come prepared, fully inside your characters. She does encourage you to bring up as much of your own personal histories to this if you can. It makes things easier and also makes for a more genuine affect in the film.”

She tilted her head and quirked a small smile. “Two. Work on your intimacy, both physical and emotional.” Her dark grey eyes looked amused. “You need to be very comfortable with touching each other, for obvious reasons.”

Brienne flushed a bright pink and looked down at her hands.

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

After asking if they had any questions, Arya efficiently packed up her laptop into her suitcase, shook their hands, and quickly left in a sleek black Wolfsvagon. They watched her quickly drive off into the distance.

He turned to Brienne, smiling his crooked grin. “So, do you want to start making out now, or…?”

She punched him in the arm, glowering, and walked away from him.

He laughed.

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

Jaime felt like he’d trimmed and cut a million strawberries, not to mention the rhubarb that he’d had to peel and chop into small pieces. There was a whole mountain of the fruits, piled high in a large bowl in front of him. Brienne was a hard taskmaster, very _precise_ – she somehow insisted that this entire mountain would fit into a single pie. He also found it hard to believe that all the fruits were from the abundant garden out back. Jaime definitely felt that his kitchen skills had improved in the past few days. Even just watching Brienne cook was inspiring him to perhaps try things when he went back to his old life. He had to admit that he was impressed with her; the fact that she was so competent in everything kind of amazed him.

He was watching her make the crust for the pie. Her hands were steady, almost reassuring as she patted the clumps into a smooth ball. It was fascinating, as she used a light touch, something about not ‘overworking’ the dough.

“How did you learn how to make this, Brienne?”

She looked at him and grinned. “Believe it or not, TV. When other kids watched cartoons, I used to come home from school and watch food shows. Dad was never a great cook, so I did a lot of the cooking when I was growing up.”

When he was a young kid, Jaime remembered being ushered by his nanny from one sports activity to another after school and on weekends. Tywin frowned upon them watching television. “Did you ever want to become a chef?”

“I did for a while, until my school took me to see a production of Hamlet when I was a teenager. Even though it’s a pretty long play, I was pretty much bowled over, while the rest of my classmates were bored out of their minds. I wanted to be on that stage, I wanted to say those words.”

“Ah. Seduced by Hamlet. A common story.”

“Well, Danish men are notoriously hot,” she giggled. She handed him the sugar that she had carefully measured. He dumped it in the bowl, along with the flour that she had given to him after. Mixing everything up made everything look a mess. So much for his pretty knife work.

“Why are we putting flour in the fruit, anyway?”

“To thicken the juices of the pie, so the filling doesn’t get too runny or soggy. We’ll add butter to it later, things will mix together well and form a thickened sauce.” She tilted her head. “Some people like cornstarch for this kind of pie, but I don’t love the gloopiness of it sometimes. Plus, we don’t seem to have cornstarch in this house.”

“Noted. I do hate a gloopy pie, myself,” he said, smiling at her.

She huffed, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile. “So, what made _you_ want to become an actor?”

Jaime laughed. “Well, I fell in love with the heroine in _Agnes Minus Colin_ – you know, that New Wave film from the 1960s?”

“I love that movie!” Brienne smiled brightly. She had wanted to be that character, with her short, wiry frame, short hair and outspoken attitude.

He nodded, grinning. “She had real spirit. I loved how she stood up to her asshole boyfriend and how she read all the time and tried to fix her neighbours’ lives.”

“Ahhh. I related to her. She wasn’t the typical girl, you know, and she was a bit tomboyish. And you can tell she had an inner life. She was a dreamer,” Brienne gushed, her expression shining.

Jaime beamed at her and looked at her hands as she smoothed out the pie dough with a rolling pin. Jaime felt strangely at peace; he wondered if normal people often felt like this while they did domestic things in the kitchen. His childhood had been very strict and formal, and the only people he spent time with were his brother Tyrion and their nanny. There was no messing about in the kitchen with the cook. He remembered getting his first bespoke suit when he was just five years old.

“This is lovely, isn’t it?” He looked at her with a strange fondness. He admired her hands, their movements as she smoothed and trimmed the dough, at once forceful and gentle.

Brienne had rarely cooked with anyone, but she couldn’t help but agree. “It is,” she said, smiling at him, her great blue eyes full of merriment. “You’re really not so bad in the kitchen, you know.”

“Didn’t someone say that a student is only as good as their teacher?” He came closer, a playful smile on his lips.

She laughed her boisterous, ringing laugh which was entirely infectious, and suddenly inspired, he reached out and tickled her sides, making her immediately squirm, double over, and laugh even harder.

“Stop,” she weakly protested, guffawing and suddenly lunging at him, marking her very floury hands on his black shirt. After that, it was _on_ : Jaime reached into the bag of flour and suddenly the white powder was everywhere; the air grew dusty, and they collapsed on the floor tickling each other with floury hands and wrestling, their long limbs all confused and on top of one another.

“Gods, stop–” Jaime panted, his ribs hurting from too much laughing. “I yield.” She let him free. They rolled away from each other, both trying to catch their breaths.

“Victory!” Brienne exclaimed, her quickly chest rising and falling, her eyes joyous and triumphant. She cringed but grinned. “It’s good that you yielded, because I was just about to pee my pants from laughing too hard.”

Brienne looked at Jaime, his face streaked with flour, his green eyes dazzling and a broad smile on his face. He was looking at her with a strange happiness. She had never had so much fun with another person; all of a sudden she realized that she _liked_ him, even though he was irritating and talked all the time and was arrogant and insulting. Despite all that, she found him _wonderful_ , and she was filled with a sudden affection for him. On a strange impulse, Brienne bent her head down and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Jaime looked momentarily stunned.

She blushed vividly, wondering what had ever possessed her, but he had an odd look to his face and she saw his eyes grow darker. Before she had the chance to move away, he reached up, lacing his fingers in her hair, and lifted his head up to meet hers, tenderly pressing his lips to her own. His kiss was gentle, tentative; his lips were warm and soft, and stirred in her an unexpected longing. She felt her heart racing, and an electric thrill ran through her body. Her insides lurched. She threw caution to the wind and kissed him back with a hunger that surprised even her. Jaime let out a moan at the back of his throat and opened his mouth so their tongues met. His hands pulled her body down on top of him and she could feel his chest pounding, warm and alive against hers.

They stared at each other when they drew back. Jaime couldn’t help but grin, and his face expressed relief when he saw Brienne smile back. They stared at each other, smiling like fools.

“You have flour on your face,” Brienne deadpanned.

Jaime threw his head back and laughed. She giggled. He kissed her again.

Brienne blushed. She looked all around them and groaned. The floor was dusted liberally with flour, and so were the kitchen counters. So were both of them. “Gods. What a mess.”

He shrugged. “No worries. I’ll clean it up.”

She looked at him skeptically. “You?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m capable,” he protested. “Just tell me where the uh…cleaning implements are.”

At that, Brienne felt as if a bubble had burst and she erupted in giggles.

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

Brienne had insisted that they have salad before digging into the perfectly-baked, golden crusted strawberry and rhubarb pie.

With her side by side, it had taken no time at all to clean up the floury mess, especially when they had found the very fancy vacuum cleaner in the hall closet. Jaime complained just a little about having to vacuum and wipe the floors, but it really was just to irritate Brienne and to make her go a little red in the face. She was adorable.

Jaime tried very hard to concentrate on the salad before him – his knife work was actually getting better and better with daily practice – but he could not help but relive their kisses in his mind – the feel of her plump lips on his, the way their tongues slid against each other, the hungry little gasps that Brienne made, her flushed cheek, the way her breasts felt pressed against his chest. He wanted more. He wanted her. Judging from Brienne’s shy, crimson cheeked glances, she was most likely thinking about their kisses as well.

The pie was still warm, and the slices they cut from it looked perfect. The magnificent, perfectly baked thing was near bursting. Brienne spooned scoops of vanilla ice cream on their dessert plates.

Jaime closed his eyes and let out a moan when he took the first bite – the crust was buttery, flakey, the fruit was tangy and plump and not too sweet, and the temperature of the ice cream contrasted sensuously with the warmth of the pie. He was in bliss.

“I never knew pie could be so good,” Jaime raved.

Brienne nodded, studying him intently, enjoying his reaction to the pie. She smiled. “I’m glad you like it, Jaime.”

“This is heavenly,” he sighed, forking another piece in his mouth.

When the dessert was done, Jaime washed the dishes while Brienne dried. He could not help flashing her a small smile every time he handed her each dish, their fingers grazing. When they were done, he took her hand and led them to the living room, where they sat down next to each other. Jaime felt a wonderful sense of well-being – he did not know when he’d ever been this much at peace.

Earlier, Brienne had come out of the shower looking all pink and warm, dressed in a loose grey t-shirt dress that came down to her mid-thigh. He had stood there, gaping at her bare legs, most of his own body still covered in flour as he had just finished mopping the mess in the kitchen. He felt most of the blood in his body immediately rush south. She looked amused as she noticed him gaping at her. Embarrassed, Jaime headed to the shower immediately after, surreptitiously shielding this crotch area. Consequently, the shower he consequently took needed to be quite cold.

But here, on the couch, with no dishes, cooking, or food to distract them, Jaime could sense the palpable tension in the air between them, the kind of anticipation where you smell the rain in the air before it comes. Electricity in the wind. Brienne was suddenly shy, unusually silent, far from the woman that responded sarcastically to his stupid remarks. Yet there was an undercurrent that had only grown the more time they spent with each other. He felt it, and he was sure she felt it too.

He grabbed her hand and idly played with it, tracing her warm palm, the long, elegant fingers, the shapely crescent moons of her fingernails. She looked at him, her eyes serious and wide.

“I like you, Brienne Tarth,” Jaime said, squeezing her hand.

It had always been Cersei for him, and he’d thought that she would be the only one for the rest of his life. He was always devoted; his ex made him think this faithfulness was a flaw, the thing that made him stupid and impulsive. Of course his devotion to her was twisted and destroyed. It had been three years and he sometimes thought that he was still picking up the pieces of himself that she had torn apart. Her manipulation of his needs and wants, her passive aggressive remarks, her aggressive physical demonstrations – the slaps, the scratches, the thrown objects. But Brienne was different – she was genuine and kind, unlike any person he’d ever met. He had never felt so strong an attraction for another woman – he had never wanted another woman, even when he had finally broken up with Cersei. But he very much wanted Brienne.

She flushed, her teeth worrying her lips. She looked up at him, her gaze lucid and beautiful, like the clearest lake that reflected the blue of the sky.

“I like you too, Jaime.” She grew even pinker. He adored her reactions, her awkwardness.

“Gods, you’re so young.” He murmured, hardly believing her words. Why should she be with a man who was fifteen years older than her? He was so damaged – any other man would be a better choice than him.

She chuckled. “I’m mature and you’re immature, remember? So we’re even.”

She was something else. He found her funny and charming and witty, and there was a tenderness to her that he found bewildering. She was so godsdamn honest and good. He drew even closer, his hand tracing up her arm to her shoulders. She shivered at his touch.

He looked into her eyes and felt himself swimming in the bluest of waters. Longing curled within him and he wanted so much to touch her.

“Can I kiss you?” His face was near hers, and he could smell the soap on her skin.

She bit her lip, tentative, nervous. “We can practice,” she murmured, “For the film.” She leaned closer, a hand fisting his t-shirt and pulling his body close.

He suddenly pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders. He searched her face. She looked at him wide-eyed, slightly alarmed. Nervous.

“Brienne. This is real. This isn’t for the film. I _like_ you.” Perhaps his voice was too forceful, perhaps he was too premature in his insistence.

She stared at him, her mouth open.

“Not for the film?”

He shook his head, emotions threatening to burst out of him. It was far too late for caution. “Look. I don’t fuck around. I don’t mess around with other people’s feelings and I certainly don’t want my feelings to be messed with. I’ve been through enough of that for a whole lifetime.” He sighed. “We’re both professionals – good actors. We don’t need to go Method for us to have a bond on the screen. I can already tell that it’s already there, we already have that on camera chemistry that Olenna is asking for.”

He let go of her shoulders, suddenly dejected. “I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to date you and see where this might lead, but in real life. Not just for the film.” His voice was rough and pleading.

“Oh.” Brienne clutched his shirt and pulled him toward her.

He felt awkward – his insides burned with humiliation. Gods, was this what it was like, _dating_? Declaring oneself? To want to be in a normal relationship? Did regular people do this all the time? How could they be so brave?

“Jaime,” Brienne said softly, touching a palm to his cheek, bringing him back from whatever abyss he was on. 

“Yes. Kiss me. For real, not for the movies.”

This time, she kissed him first, her lips lingering over his, pressing and gently nipping. He moaned and opened his mouth to her, deepening their kiss. He felt overwhelmed with the feel of her, the scent and the warmth of her. She tasted like strawberries and summer, the lush garden and summer clouds. He ran his hand up and down her bare legs, and she groaned and adjusted herself so she was straddling his lap. He kissed and licked her neck, eliciting a keening moan.

Her hands were around his neck, roaming his shoulders and back as she brought her hips closer to his, and he was harder than he’d ever been, and she let out a gasp as the core of her rubbed back and forth against him. He shuddered as he felt her hands take off his belt and undo his jeans, giving his erection some blessed relief in his boxer briefs. He reached under her dress and squeezed her ass as he helplessly rubbed up against her cunt.

“Oh – oh gods,” Brienne murmured. She arched back as he sucked her nipples over the cotton of her t-shirt dress. She huffed and impatiently lifted up the garment, tossing it off her body as she revealed her naked breasts to him. He looked at her in awe. She looked back at him with a heated, dark look. Her skin was alabaster, freckled, and her nipples were prominent, hard and pink, although her aureoles were the palest of blush. She looked like dessert. He was hungry for her. He sucked a nipple, his hand squeezing her other breast, and the way she moaned made his cock lurch. She was rubbing her cunt against him, grinding her clit against his cock and he thrust up into her, his cock desperate, his mouth sucking her breasts, and they moved faster and faster until her gasps turned to moans and she shuddered over him. His whole body was a taut rope as his hips pushed up urgently, and he groaned into her neck, rubbing and thrusting until he felt himself quaking, coming hard inside his briefs.

She slumped against him as both of them caught their breaths. He threw his arms around her and held her close.

“Jaime,” Brienne panted, crumbling on the couch beside him. “That was –”

“Yes,” he answered. “It was.”

He leaned over to kiss her – her cheeks were flushed, and there was a brightness to her eyes that made him want to kiss her all the more. “Are you okay?”

She smiled and kissed him back. “More than okay.” He remembered that she had little experience with men – she had never had a boyfriend or a lover. She was still an innocent. All of a sudden, he felt the immensity of it – the monumental thing that just happened between the two of them, how she let him touch her and let him get close. That seemed like a very rare thing and he needed to take care and get his lust for her under control.

“We’ll go slow, at your own pace,” Jaime said to her gently, running his hands through her fine hair. 

She nodded, her eyes startlingly blue as she looked at him. “Thank you, Jaime.” He drew her close in an embrace.

“Bed?”

“Yes,” he murmured. “I might clean up first.” He looked sheepish as he gestured down. “It’s kind of a mess down there.”

She looked down at his obvious wet patch on his briefs and widened her eyes, and nodded mutely, the bud of a smile on her lips.

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

Brienne was already tucked in bed, still half-dazed by the events of the evening, when Jaime emerged from the bathroom, striding in like the Warrior himself. As usual, he wore only boxer briefs and was glowing in the lamplight. This time, she gave herself the permission to really look at his body – the tanned skin, the well-developed chest muscles, his six-pack abs. He was lean yet muscular, with slim hips, and long, well-formed thighs and calves. The sparse hair on his chest sparkled golden in the light. He really did resemble the ancient marble statues that were displayed in the greatest museums.

He caught her examining his body and looked smugly at her. They lay down and faced each other.

She gave him a questioning look. “So, should we talk about this? What happened?”

“I suppose we should.” He took her hand and played with it. “I think the situation – I mean, we’re in a difficult one. It would be too easy for us to lose ourselves in our roles as a couple. I’ve seen it before with others – actors fall in love with each other on set, but it all disappears when the shooting is done. Things can get confused. Characters fall in love with each other, not the actors themselves, as they later discover.” He paused, looking at her gently. “I don’t want that to happen for us. I want to be with you. _Me_ , Jaime Lannister, not the character I’ll be playing for the next couple of months.”

Brienne looked disbelievingly at him. She could hardly believe that Jaime was declaring his intention to her, saying he actually wanted to date her, separate from their roles or anything associated with the film. That there even _was_ an after. A future. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this; indeed, everything in her life had taught her that she was due for a life of romantic rejection. Yet here he was – this handsome, vulnerable man before her, declaring his intention to have a real relationship with her. He wanted her, just as she wanted him.

She understood what he was saying, of course. She too had seen it and heard stories of love affairs between actors. Those on-set relationships usually ended in disaster and resentment on both parties. Yet the feeling of wanting him now was almost overwhelming. How could they resist, and did she even want to resist?

She sighed, a touch disappointed. “I agree. The next couple of months will be difficult, considering Olenna’s reputation as a taskmaster and the short shooting schedule.” She worried her lip. “I don’t want us to fall for each other just because we are meant to in the movie. But how do we prevent that?”

Jaime frowned in concentration. “I don’t know – but I don’t want to screw this up.”

She squeezed his shoulder and scooted closer, so their bodies were almost touching. He drew his arm around her – it felt too natural. 

He looked at her and spoke. “Maybe after this cohabitation, once we’re back in King’s Landing and have started the rehearsal process, we should keep things professional.” His hands stroked her shoulders and upper arms. “Then after the shoot is over, we can actually start dating for real.”

“That might be difficult,” she mused. She couldn’t help tracing the hard muscles of his shoulders and upper back. “But considering we’re both sort of inexperienced in this whole dating thing – at least I am anyway, it might be a good idea. If we’re meant to be together, whatever is between us will keep until shooting wraps.”

“If it’s real, it will still be there two months from now," he agreed. He searched her face.

“But we still have this bit of time left….” Brienne bit her lip, all too drawn by his shy smile and the warmth of his green eyes.

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” His gaze traveled from her eyes slowly to her lips.

“Gods, yes.” She touched his shoulder and traced her hand up his neck. She pulled him to her and kissed him, his mouth eagerly responding and his arms drawing her close. The taste of him made her nearly swoon as she felt arousal rush through her blood.

When they eventually pulled apart, Brienne was breathing hard and Jaime looked already half-wrecked, with reddened lips, colour high on his cheeks, his hair all disheveled. She had already felt his growing hardness on her hip.

“But we should probably take things slow.” He looked at her with longing and sighed.

A part of her wanted to disregard all caution and tackle him and kiss him until they both could bear it no more. All she wanted was to get as close to him as possible. But a part of her was still nervous and fearful of intimacy and going _all in_ , all of a sudden – they had known each other just a few days, after all. And she had never been so intimate with another person before. She reminded herself to be rational and think with her mind and not see through the lens of her desire.

“Okay.” Her voice was soft, leaning on the edge of want.

They smiled at each other. He drew her into an embrace and she wound her arms around him. She could feel the strength of him, his solidity under her palms. Perhaps it was a bad idea to be so tentative, and she wasn’t sure if staying away from each other would even work, given their evident attraction to each other. But she felt that her life had become a different thing from that moment, like a part of her had been coloured in. Her heart shimmied with anticipation and hope. She had never thought that love was a thing life had in store for her, but she was grateful for this chance at it at least, no matter what the outcome may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers, after writing this, I had to go to the local farmer's market and buy myself a whole strawberry rhubarb pie.


	5. Chapter Five

There was a knock on her apartment door. Brienne frowned, wondering who on earth it could be, as she hadn’t buzzed anyone inside the building. She wondered if it was her neighbour Jon, who often ran out of very essential things like coffee, eggs, milk, or even toilet paper. He was her age, but it seemed to Brienne that it was a miracle that he had managed to survive on his own, despite being a successful animator on a popular TV show. He was often at her door, asking to borrow household things, pleading with his dark, puppy dog eyes.

Brienne opened her door, fully expecting the mopped haired young man, but there stood decidedly someone different: a dashing, golden, gorgeous lion of a man, dressed in close-fitting blue jeans and a tight black sweatshirt. Strangely, he had on oven mitts and was holding out a huge golden brown pie in a glass dish; from his elbow hung a cloth tote bag.

“Jaime!” All Brienne could do was gape. He was godsdamn handsome and a sight for her sore eyes. “How on earth did you get into the building?”

Jaime gave a boyish grin, dimples at full power, his eyes crinkling. He slid into her apartment and she locked the door, still in disbelief at his appearance. “I used my charms, of course. You really should do something about building security though,” he observed wryly.

She stared speechless at the pie. “You brought me a pie? What on earth?”

“I made it, Brienne. Just like you showed me at the cabin.” He winced. “It’s still hot. I jumped into the car with it as soon as I took it out of the oven.”

She shook her head. “Gods, you’re weird.” She followed him to the kitchen. Jaime placed the pie on the counter, and took out a pint of premium vanilla ice cream from his bag and stored it in the freezer.

He slowly looked around her apartment, at her plain white walls, her old, beat-up furniture, and the random paintings that were hung around the place. He scrutinized the framed pictures of her family on a book shelf. He turned to her and smiled. “I like it.”

She stared at him, at the utter incongruity of Jaime Lannister in her shabby apartment, the same Jaime Lannister who likely lived in a multi-million-dollar penthouse in downtown King’s Landing. She stood there for a moment, vaguely shaking her head.

“We’ve only wrapped the film today,” Brienne observed, looking at him steadily.

“That’s right,” he replied, his voice even. He stepped closer to her.

“And it’s been only – oh, four hours since we last saw each other.”

“Right again.” He came nearer, standing close enough to touch, smiling softly. Brienne could not help but admire the sharp, chiseled planes of Jaime’s face, the brightness of his green eyes. Heat seemed to radiate from his skin.

“And you made a pie and brought it all the way over here.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.” He reached out and stroked her face, his eyes wide and fond. “We wrapped filming. I didn’t want you to forget about me.”

She shook her head, letting out a hint of a smile. “You’re silly, Jaime. How could I ever forget about you? You’ve been on my mind every single day.” She blushed and leaned forward, so their bodies were nearly touching. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you every day I’ve seen you.”

“Thank gods,” Jaime breathed, and he surged forward, meeting his lips to hers. His mouth was heated, pressing into hers almost desperately, his kiss hungry and passionate. She melted into him and opened her mouth, sliding her tongue against his, eliciting from him a low moan. She pulled his body close, so she could feel all of the hard planes of him. Gods, Brienne was yearning for this; she’d had enough of lonely nights, longing for Jaime, with only the relief of her hand as poor consolation.

“I’ve been in agony this past few weeks, just wanting to kiss you and hold you.” Jaime confessed as they withdrew from the kiss. His hands touched her hair, her cheeks, her lips, like he couldn’t get enough.

She smiled, nuzzling his very attractive neck, kissing the hollow at the base of his throat. He smelled faintly of sugar.

“For the first time in my life, I was ecstatic about having to film sex scenes,” Brienne said cheekily.

Jaime laughed and kissed her. “That was pretty great but also pretty torturous for me. That cock sock did not do much to hide my situation.”

“So I noticed,” she smirked.

“I’m sure you also noticed that I had to uh…rush to the bathroom in the middle of our scenes, well, a few times.” He said, running his hands over her shoulders and back, eventually resting them on her hips.

“What I also noticed,” she said, continuing to plant kisses on his neck, “Was that you usually weren’t gone very long.”

“Hmmm,” Jaime murmured, one hand drawing circles around her ass, the other snaking under her t-shirt and up her side, his warm touch on her bare skin making her almost lightheaded. “It didn’t take me long to take care of the problem, given the state of circumstances.”

She drew a breath and gave him a mischievous, heated look. “Oh…you’ll have to show me sometime. I want to see _exactly_ how you took care of the situation.”

He groaned and pressed his hips to hers, pulling her body close; she nearly gasped when she felt the stiffness of his erection through his trousers. Gods, she wanted this. She wanted _him_. Brienne felt herself getting increasingly wet, a liquid warmth spreading down her belly. Feeling bold, she reached between them and cupped his bulge, making him pant and groan and clutch her hips.

“Gods, Brienne. I don’t think I can stand _not_ fucking you anymore,” he said, his voice low and edged with desperation.

She kissed along his jaw and his ear. “Since we’ve been waiting all these weeks, I took the initiative of getting an IUD put in.”

“ _Fuck_.” He moaned and squeezed her breast, his thumb rolling her nipple through her thin t-shirt, making her gasp.

“And I got tested, just in case. I’m clean.” That made _her_ groan. He looked at her with hunger in his eyes. They kissed ravenously, and suddenly Brienne couldn’t stand the few layers of fabric between them. She hurriedly pawed at his clothes, and Jaime quickly took off his sweatshirt and threw it on the floor. The rest of their garments came off quickly, and soon they were staring at each other with a wild desperation in their eyes.

Brienne took in all of Jaime, his golden, glistening body that was firm with muscle. His thick blond mane, his lanky frame, the sharp angles of his face. His red and swollen lips. His eyes deepened by lust. His perfect cock standing straight out in front of him.

She took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

Jaime had to remind himself to go slow, even though his every instinct told him to immediately plunge into her and fuck her hard until they both dissolved in bliss. They were laying naked in bed, kissing and sucking and murmuring all sorts of nonsense to each other. He was impatient to have her, after two months of waiting and taking himself in hand, dreaming of Brienne and her strong body and incredible blue eyes. After two months of torturous waiting, there were no doubts about who he wanted.

He could hardly believe he was in bed with the woman he’d been dreaming of for weeks, her soft, pliant flesh warm beneath his fingers, her mouth soft and giving. He wanted this since he first met her. When she tentatively grabbed the shaft of his cock, he groaned and felt a jolt of pleasure. Her hands were shy and inexperienced, but he guided her as best as he could, showing her how to stroke him, hold him and how much pressure to use as she gripped him. As she gained confidence and her strokes grew firmer, he’d had to hold her back, because he was so close to coming apart just from her innocent touches.

She gasped when he explored her folds, his fingers tracing her seam and lightly rubbing her clit. She squirmed and panted, instinctively moving her hips with his fingers.

“Is this alright?” he asked, in between kissing her.

She nodded, her eyes wide and dark.

He plunged a finger inside, where she was wet and slippery. She moaned, growing louder as he inserted a second finger and started to move them in and out of her. Jaime let out a satisfied groan, noticing Brienne’s breathy little moans and wriggles of her hips. He changed positions, kissing down her body, taking the time to suck at her nipples, licking down her flat stomach. She was an incredible mix of soft and muscular that made his toes curl. Her thighs bracketing his face were monumental and strong, but oh so soft. Gods, she smelled delicious.

Her eyes widened as she watched him kissing down her body, and she drew in a long breath as she realized what he was going to do.

She cried out when his lips met her mound. He kissed her cunt and licked her, all the while his fingers continued moving inside her. He made sure to build her pleasure slowly, with soft licks and kisses just around her sensitive nub. She gripped the sheets beneath her. Soon, she was writhing under him, making incoherent sounds and stuttering little gasps that made his cock even harder. When she was close, he intently sucked at her clit while his fingers pushed up and curled, over and over, until her hips were bucking and her fingers were in his hair, pressing desperately.

“Oh, gods, Jaime, yes!” she cried loudly, over and over, her whole body shuddering violently and shaking in the aftermath.

He moved up her body, wiped his face on the back of his hand and held her as she came down from her bliss. She looked at him with wonder, astonishment written large on her face. She kissed him, moaning when she discovered her taste in his mouth. He looked at her with a wicked, smug expression.

“Jaime, Jaime.” she said, staring into his eyes. She used her considerable strength to pull his body over hers. He groaned as he settled between her thighs.

He was so hard it almost hurt.

“Please,” Brienne said, kissing him, and it was all he could take as he started to nudge his cock between her soft folds. She was incredibly wet and the leaking head of his cock further lubricated her entrance and he rubbed his cock up and down her opening, teasing her clit. She grunted, parting her legs wider in welcome as he started to slowly push in. Gods, she was warm and her tightness massaged every inch of his cock as he slid in bit by bit. She gasped and clung to his shoulders. He made himself slow down and breathe as soon as he was fully sheathed in her. His heart was pounding and the sound of it filled his ears. He felt precarious, like he could fall off at any moment.

“Okay?” He managed to gasp. Jaime looked down at her. She smiled and nodded, her eyes wide and her cheeks bright pink.

When he regained some control, he started to move in and out of her, at first slowly, gauging her reaction. Soon enough, Brienne became used to the movement and the feel of his cock inside her, and she started to cant her hips up to meet his, allowing him to thrust deeper every time. The feeling was devastating, feral. They clung to each other, gasping and kissing, their touches desperate. Her eyes were blazing and bright blue and pulled him in even more. She clutched his ass, pressing him even deeper into her. He moaned into her neck, utterly lost in her flesh, her softness, her utter power. Pleasure started to build inside him and he felt his balls starting to tighten. 

Still having a bit of his senses left, he reached in between them to where they joined and rubbed and pressed at her clit. She gasped and ground up toward him, her mouth open and moaning, her cunt becoming even wetter as it started to pulse and squeeze around him. She arched and keened, crying out, over and over. Unable to take it anymore, Jaime intensified his thrusts, and there came a point where the pleasure became too much, so much so that he was past thought, and he drove into her harder, and Brienne was bucking up to meet him, until he exploded, brightness surrounding him as he poured himself into her and he felt his whole body shudder with pleasure. His limbs felt like they were floating. After a bit, he managed to push off her, collapsing breathlessly beside her. He needed to close his eyes for a few seconds as he felt his body return back to his senses.

When he opened his eyes, Brienne was watching him with amusement and utter affection. She looked heartbreakingly young, flushed, and beautiful, her lips red and her skin pink with sweat. She was everything he wanted. She was everything. She was his future.

Brienne kissed him softly.

He groaned. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” he declared, his arms and legs still weak.

“Me too,” she grinned.

“But that was the only sex you’ve had.”

She giggled. “True. I guess you set a pretty high bar for the first time.” She tilted her head playfully. “I wonder what you'll do to surpass it?”

He grinned. Jaime kissed her and drew her into his arms, pressing her long body next to his.

“I want to do this every day and every night with you.” He kissed her neck.

She cuddled into him and chuckled. “Me too, Jaime.”

<<<()><()><()><()><()>>>

The slice of pie was stuffed with strawberry and rhubarb. The crust was golden, evenly baked. It was still warm.

“I can’t believe you made this all by yourself.” Brienne looked at him skeptically. She was naked underneath that short blue cotton robe of hers, but Jaime would not allow himself to be distracted from the pie.

He huffed. “Of course I did. I’ve been practicing, if you must know.” He spooned a heaping scoop vanilla ice cream onto their plates. She licked her lips in anticipation.

He studied her as she took her first bite. She closed her eyes as she chewed, and her face transformed into one of pleasure. He felt his cock stir at the sight of her eating and the sound of her rather indecent moan. He had to adjust himself in the sweatpants he borrowed from Brienne.

Her eyes opened wide, astonished. “Jaime.”

“Yes, Brienne?” He smirked at her.

“You added ginger!” Her eyebrows were raised sky high.

He nodded, grinning like a very proud school boy. “You noticed,” he said happily.

“You’ve improved on perfection. I can’t believe it.” Her smile, wide and wild, beamed down at him.

“I was inspired by you, of course.” He could not imagine her looking happier – her blue eyes positively sparkled. He wanted her again.

She threw herself at him with a sigh, her arms around his neck. He kissed her long and deep. She was lovely and perfect and tasted of strawberries and ginger, and he was overwhelmed in her flesh, the warmth and smell of her skin, and wonderfully, blissfully rapt in her touches.

He pulled her even closer.

Slowly, she untied her robe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this odd mix of domestic and film themes featuring Jaime and Brienne. I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> I must say, this whole Fic Exchange has been a blast. I'm astonished at the level of writing talent we have in our fandom. XOXO


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